Elvis's Chapel O' Burnin' Love
by sugah66
Summary: It was just a joke. But he isn't laughing anymore. DL. Oneshot.


**TITLE: Elvis's Chapel O' Burnin' Love  
****AUTHOR: Sugah Sugah  
****SUMMARY: Danny and Lindsay get a little caught up in the bright lights of Vegas.  
****SPOILERS: none that I can think of  
****PAIRING: Danny/Lindsay, naturally  
****RATING: K+ - I behave myself in this one.  
****DISCLAIMER: They. Are. Not. Mine.  
****AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic was inspired by Mountie, who said that if they ever do a Vegas/NY crossover that Danny and Lindsay should pull a Warrick and get married. It is dedicated to Ashley, Mountie, Trace, and everyone else at We Love M&Ms. I changed the chapel name a bit.**

**I purposely don't mention which Vegas CSIs they're with because it's intended as an NY fic, not a crossover. Just a short little ficlet to satisfy my muse.**

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**Elvis's Chapel O' Burnin' Love**

It was supposed to be a joke. She wasn't supposed to take it seriously. He was kidding. That's what he did. He was a kidder. It was a joke; that was all – a simple joke. So how come he was no longer laughing?

It all started with a double homicide in Chinatown. They worked on it for weeks, ran down every possible lead, interrogated every viable suspect, and it seemed like they were never going to get anywhere. Then there was a major break in the case – a similar murder had occurred in Las Vegas. Mac sent them there immediately to assist the Vegas CSIs by telling them everything that they knew about the case. Mac was determined to get the guy, no matter what.

The Vegas CSIs were none too welcoming. For the longest time Danny felt like he had to prove himself. If it hadn't been for Lindsay, he didn't think he would have made it through. He'd been through his fair share of problems with the job back in New York; he didn't want to have to go through it all over again. But Lindsay was his pillar of strength. She acted like a true New Yorker, standing up to the Vegas CSIs when they doubted her and Danny's ability to close the case. Danny couldn't help but be impressed with the way she handled them.

She was amazing. She was perfect. And incredibly enough, even after all she knew about him, she still wanted to be around him. They had a hotel room together – nothing fancy, just a motel off-strip – but Danny could hardly sleep at night. He would lay on his back and try to tune out the rhythmic sounds of her breathing, try to forget that she was just feet away from him, and here he was thinking naughty thoughts about those skimpy little clothes she had the nerve to call pajamas. Seriously. He had bathing suits with more fabric than those.

Cold showers became his best friend the four days they were in Vegas. And only partly because of the sweltering Nevada heat.

Not all of the Vegas CSIs were antagonistic towards the two of them. Actually, most of them weren't. And when the case was solved and the bad guy was behind bars, a couple of them offered to take Danny and Lindsay out on the town to celebrate.

Danny was stoked. He'd never been to Vegas before. Atlantic City, sure, but Atlantic City couldn't hold a candle to the bright lights and intoxicating appeal of Las Vegas – Sin City. Never had a city's nickname been more appropriate, as Danny, Lindsay, and the Vegas CSIs made their way down the strip. Cocktails and gambling and steak and eggs in every major casino in sight. Danny had the time of his life. Every drink was liberating. Every pull of the slot machine was an adventure.

He couldn't remember the name of the casino they were in when the conversation happened. He only knew that he was probably on his fifth or sixth shot of tequila, so he was a little loose with his words. Not quite drunk enough to not know what he was saying, but just drunk enough to not care.

"Montana," he said. They were standing at the roulette wheel. She put fifty dollars on red. "You ever see anything like this place?" He gestured at the casino with a sweep of his arm, but he didn't just mean the casino. He meant Vegas in general.

"Actually, Messer," she said, "I've been here before."

"You're pulling my leg," he said, and the dealer spun the wheel.

"Montana's a lot closer to Vegas than New York is, Danny. We came here on spring break once when I was in college."

The wheel kept spinning.

"Really? What'd you do?"

Lindsay smiled and blushed scarlet. "Pretty much everything except get married."

Danny stared at her – at the way the neon lights from the flashing signs reflected in her hair, at the way her eyes seemed to light up when she smiled, at the way her whole face seemed to glow when she was happy. She was beautiful. She was amazing. And she was way too good for him.

"You wanna get married?"

She turned her head sharply, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open, frozen in shock. "What did you just ask me?"

He shrugged. It was a joke, but she didn't look like she thought it was funny. "D'you wanna marry me?"

The roulette wheel finally stopped. 35 red.

Twenty minutes later, they were at a little chapel one of the Vegas guys had recommended called Elvis's Chapel O' Burnin' Love. And Danny's head was spinning. This wasn't really happening. This wasn't really happening. It had to be a dream. He pinched himself. Nope. It really hurt. It was really happening.

His eyes stared at the wall in front of him without really seeing anything. If he didn't do something soon, he was going to marry Lindsay Monroe. He and Montana were going to be pronounced man and wife by some overweight guy in a bad wig and a too-small white rhinestone jumpsuit.

He did notice the sign on the wall. It read "Elvis's Chapel O' Burnin' Love" in big black letters. But underneath was the interesting part.

_Marriages in ten minutes or your money back._

Danny hung his head. This was a bad idea.

His head was screaming for him to stop. His brain kept pointing out all the perfectly valid reasons why this was a terrible idea. His mind kept reminding him that he and Montana worked together, that he was slightly intoxicated, that he was caught up in the Vegas atmosphere, and that he didn't really want to do this – and if he did really want to do this, he didn't want to do it like this. Not by Elvis.

He didn't normally listen to his brain, but it made a good argument. He generally listened to his libido, who had the usual things to say – most of which Danny had already thought of but couldn't help thinking of again…like, say, the wedding night. But his libido tended to get him in trouble, so maybe he should listen to his head.

There was a third, much smaller voice somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. It told him to listen to it.

He looked up at Lindsay. She was smiling at him – not smiling, beaming. Her whole face lit up, not just her eyes.

Damn. He was in love with her. And he was in big trouble.

This was a bad idea. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do it.

"Number 172," said Elvis.

Danny offered Lindsay his arm. "Well, Mrs. Messer, shall we go?"

She smiled and took his arm. "We wouldn't want to keep Elvis waiting, would we?"

And they walked into the chapel of burning love.


End file.
